


Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater

by KnitKnitRead



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Knitting, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnitKnitRead/pseuds/KnitKnitRead
Summary: All Alice had wanted was to make Frank a cardigan. He loved cardigans and sweater vests.





	Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> There's a distinct lack of Frank and Alice centric fics. I'm hoping to expand this into a collection of drabbles. It'll take me a while and I can almost promise this would be the longest one. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

**December 1978**

It is a truth universally acknowledged amongst knitters that one does not knit a sweater for a significant other unless married or bonded. No sweaters. No sweater vests. No capes. No coats. No cardigans. To do so initiates The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater. Something will go wrong. 

Or, this was how Alice Oakes was explaining her absolute refusal to knit a sweater for her boyfriend, Frank Longbottom.

“So you can knit hats, socks, mittens, or even bloody long underwear but not a jumper,” snorted Dorcas with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Is this an American thing? Did they come up with this rubbish?”

Alice looked up from her knitting at her friend, one of the first she made after coming to England for the Auror program three years earlier, and gravely said, “It's not a joke. Go to any yarn shop! Haberdashery! Maj or No Maj! And tell them you want to knit a sweater for your partner. Go on, see how quickly they try to talk you out of it.”

Dorcas looked at Alice with such incredulity that the latter set down her knitting and threw up her hands. 

“I'm not taking the piss, Cas. I really am knitting Frank another hat,” muttered the petite blonde, “Frank's too good of a catch. I'm not taking any chances. Now, tell me more about Mary.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I know nothing of the dark arts and crafts,” said Dorcas, placatingly, “And Mary is doing lovely… just not with me.”

**Late November 1979**

Alice thought back on that day nearly a year later. So much had happened. The war was becoming more intense. More and more people were dying. 

But some good had happened too. Frank had proposed in July. His mother, upon seeing the ring on Alice’s finger, had said, “It was about time you married someone, Francis! You are far too behind in having children. Archibald, we need to ready the gardens.”

Augusta had not been overly pleased when Alice and Frank expressed their desire to wed before the end of the year. Augusta still had not let go of an early summer wedding, no matter how close they got to the Winter Solstice.

With the ever approaching wedding day, Alice decided to take the chance and knit her not quite husband a cardigan. Against every voice in her head screaming that it was a terrible idea, the side eye at the haberdashery when she bought the pattern and yarn, and even the taunting of Dorcas; she was knitting Frank a cardigan. 

**1 December 1979**

The cardigan was finished. It had alternating colorwork motifs and she had knit it in black and white. The button holes had been especially tricky to get just right. 

“And it had only taken me a week!” Alice exclaimed to Dorcas as she finished sewing on the buttons. 

“And your fiance didn't run off,” chortled Dorcas.

Alice pulled a face and repeated her friend in a mocking tone as she clipped the final end.

“What the hell!”

Alice held up the cardigan. It had shrunk. The colorwork was still proportional but it had shrunk. 

“Al, I think that's a bit small for Frank. I don't think it would even fit you,” Dorcas joked. 

“I just… you saw… it was… and then...poof! You saw it! This is not a stressed induced hallucination!”

Dorcas nodded and said, “Well, it was more of a POP… but yes, it was fine.”

“I guess I'll rip it out and start over if enlargement spells don't do the trick,” said Alice. 

**7 December 1979**

The charms hadn't worked. Nothing. It was determined to stay small. The damn thing even had the audacity to shock her when she tried to rip it out to start over. She had gone to a different store, bought different yarn, and even bought new needles.

There she was, a week later, tentatively sewing on the final button.

POP!

“Morgana’s tits!” shouted Alice as the second cardigan shrunk to baby clothes.

Throwing the cardigan across the room, she read over the pattern and performed some counter-jinxes. Maybe there was a jinx on it to get people to buy more yarn.

Dorcas came over to find her dear friend with knitting needles twisted in her hair muttering about sweater curses and “Circe damned yarn”. She slowly backed herself into the Floo and left. She had seen Alice in a knitting snit before and she did not wish to repeat the experience. 

**14 December 1979**

Alice sat in her chair, muttering numbers as she counted stitches. Between Order business, her job, and these damned cardigans she was running on no sleep. 

Finally she finished the second sleeve and…

It stayed. Alice sat staring at properly sized, not shrinking cardigan. Breathing a sigh of relief, she popped the cardigan in the sink to soak and Fire Called Dorcas, inviting her friend over for a girl's night. 

Thirty minutes later, Dorcas arrived with take-out and wine.

“Oh bless you. I need this. My nerves are shot,” explained Alice, “I was convinced the damn cardigan would shrink like all the others.”

“Thank Merlin! I was actually starting to believe you about the sweater curse,” chuckled Dorcas. 

The two friends say down to drink, eat, and play a few rounds of cards. The cardigan sat, forgotten in the bathroom sink...

Until Alice needed to pee.

She didn't notice until she went to wash her hands. Alice stood in stunned silence. All she had wanted was to make Frank a cardigan. He loved cardigans and sweater vests. She had finally felt comfortable making one for him but they just kept shrinking!

Staring at the cardigan, she shouted, “Why will you not just stay the right size?!”

Then she began to sob. She could not get herself to calm down. She had spent three weeks knitting cardigans.

“Shrunk again?” Dorcas questioned.

Alice could only sob. Dorcas came over to her friend and hugged her tightly. 

“It's ok, Love. Maybe your magic just wants to keep you from mucking things up this close to the wedding.”

“Not,” Alice sniffled, “funny.”

“I just, I wanted to make him a sweater and...ahh, why can't I stop crying?”

“That time?”

It hit Alice like a bucket of cold water.

“Dorcas, I'm late.”

“Well it is after midnight, but you aren't late for anything.”

“No, I'm _late_."

Dorcas screwed up her face in confusion before saying, “Oh shite! Hold on, I've got some old testing potions at home.”

**25 December 1979**

Alice sat with her new husband in their suite at Longbottom Court. They had decided to exchange their gifts before heading downstairs to spend the day with Frank's parents. 

“Oh Frank, thank you!,” she cooed over the yarn that Frank had gifted her for Christmas.

Frank blushed and rubbed his neck, “Well it feels like a bit of a cop out really.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Frank turned to deepen the kiss when Alice pushed a box into his chest and said, “Open this first.”

Frank opened the package, reaching in to pull out three cardigans. 

“They're lovely, Allie. But they look a bit small?” Frank said while looking at the garments.

“Oh, no. They're the perfect size,” she said nonchalantly.

Frank held them up to himself and studied them for a moment. Eyes suddenly going wide.

“Pregnant, Frank. Expecting. The rabbit done died,” explained Alice with a growing smile on her face.

Then holding up a Fair Isle sweater vest, in an adult size, she said, “And I made you matching knitwear.”


End file.
